


Robin, Boy Contortionist

by figaro



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Autofellatio, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figaro/pseuds/figaro





	Robin, Boy Contortionist

It was Roy who had come up with the idea in the first place.

_“Man, there’s no need to complain about the lack of lady action in your life—you’re so bendy you could probably blow yourself.”_

__Now Dick sat on his bed, cheeks burning with embarrassment despite him being alone in the room, looking down at himself with Roy’s words ringing in his ears.

 _You could probably blow yourself._..

Dick shifted, crossing his legs in a sloppy half-lotus but never once letting his gaze stray from his lap. He was naked and, goddamnit, he was half hard already, his treacherous cock having taken a shine to the idea long before him.

_I probably could. Could put my mouth on my own…no. Yes. I’m pretty damn sure I could but…what would that make me?_

A cocksucker. Of course. Dick didn’t really have a problem with that; it wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t struck him before, how it would feel to wrap his lips around something so hard and still so silky soft at the same time, how it would be to lick and suck and nibble and _taste_.

No, what bothered Dick wasn’t the act of sucking cock, it was the question of how weird sucking _himself_ off would make him. What would Roy say if he knew Dick actually went ahead and _did_ it. Dick would never hear the end of it. He’d be labeled the Teen Titan pervert for good.

  
He flat out refused to think about how that thought made his cock fill out even more, growing hard enough to point straight at the ceiling even as shame burned like wildfire in his chest. He’d never get his head around that one.

Dick bit his lip, frowned so hard the muscles in his forehead ached…and slowly bent down. Having already done his usual stretches (more meticulously than usual, oh yes) he barely felt any strain at all until he was, well, face to face with his dick. A hysterical voice in the back of his head cracked a dozen jokes at that and Dick could feel an equally hysterical laugh build in his throat. He swallowed hard.

If he stretched just a _little_ bit more, if he stuck his tongue out, he’d be able to lick himself.

And then he’d be a freak forever.

Dick held still for a while, staring at his cock, which twitched under the close scrutiny, and realized he did notice a strain in his neck, a small one, but one he could tell would become a nuisance if he pushed further.

However, instead of using it as an excuse to abort the project, Dick flopped down on his back and kept on moving, folding himself up until only his shoulders touched the mattress and his feet were planted firmly against the headboard behind his head.

This way he—

Dick felt a tiny, wet splat on his chin. He knew it was precome, what else could it be, but his mind balked at it. His cock was hanging, _dripping,_ inches from his face and if he curled up a little tighter, bent his knees a little more he’d have his mouth full—of himself.

He cursed quietly, cursed again as he bent his knees, lifted his head and met the head of his cock with a big, wet kiss—the kind you get smothered in by maiden aunts, or, in Dick’s case, old lady socialites needing to impress very-important-person Bruce Wayne at whatever gala he’d dragged Dick along to.

Dick took the kiss one step further, pursed his lips slowly, felt the insides of them slide over the slick, completely smooth skin of the glans, and a moment after he dared let his tongue peek out and taste the wetness gathered at the tip.

 _Straight from the source oh God what_ will _Roy think of me now what—_

 __He felt a dribble on his tongue, and swallowed reflexively around a surprised moan. The thought of Roy had sent a jolt of excitement down his spine and straight up his cock.

Dick found he couldn’t get the image of his friend out of his head, of Roy sitting next to him on his bed looking at him, tilting his head with a teasing smile on his lips, an eyebrow raised in both question and friendly mockery.

 _“Look at you, Boy Contortionist. Told you you could but, man, I never expected you to actually_ do it _. You actually have your own dick in your mouth.”_

 __Dick didn’t bother trying to hold the next moan back.He fanned his arms out, digging his fingers into the heavy comforter and grabbing two handfuls so hard his knuckles whitened, then slowly moved his feet down the headboard, folding himself up even more, and felt his cock sink deeper into his mouth, the head slipping past the barrier of his teeth and pressing down heavy on his tongue.

It felt good. It felt really good. He liked the faint salty streak painted down the middle of his tongue, liked how the shaft felt between his lips. He tightened them carefully, slipped his eyes shut with a little sigh and sucked.

It was as if the sound was _ripped_ from his throat, harsh and greedy. The shock, the novelty, the _pleasure_ nearly made Dick lose his balance and fall on his side and without a thought he adjusted for it, parting and bending his legs a little more, completely unprepared for how it made his cock slide even deeper, enough to bump against the back of his throat and make him gag lightly.

Dick had gotten the question if his spine was made of rubber in the past—now he asked himself the same thing. Being Robin, trained by the Batman, he was very aware of his body’s limits and capabilities but it seemed he’d still underestimated himself on one point—he could easily curl in on himself enough to take his entire dick in his mouth.

The thought of adding that fact to Batman’s already pretty damn extensive files on him flashed through Dick’s mind ( _always keep your information up to date_ , the hysterical little voice in the back of his head said) and made him choke. He coughed around his cock and pulled back; not enough to slip out, though, definitely not enough to slip out, lips still locked around the head.

He felt weird, he felt stupid and clumsy and perverted but he didn’t want to stop. It felt too good. Even the cough had felt good, the back of his throat fluttering and tightening in quick little pulses. It made him wonder if it would be possible to shove deeper and if so, how it would feel. He imagined it would have to be tight as hell; tight and hot and _oh…_

But this, his cheeks hollowing and the ‘o’ of his lips tightening, felt incredible too—especially when he stretched his neck slowly, took inch after inch in his mouth, and tried a gentle swallow when the head rubbed over the back of his tongue. The sensation nearly made him lose his balance for a second time and he swallowed again. And again.

Dick didn’t really moan by then, he whimpered, and he kept whimpering as he started moving his head, took his own mouth over and over. He even _whined_ when he accidentally scraped his teeth over the flared ridge of the head, but it was a good whine, one which seemed to herald his oncoming orgasm, his _inevitable_ orgasm. It built in his body rapidly and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d stop unless someone pulled him off.

Dick worked himself, swallowing what felt like insane amounts of spit pooling under his tongue, even felt some of it spill down the corners of his mouth as his lips kept getting painted thickly when he moved them up and down his cock. Somewhere deep down he still had presence enough to wonder what he must look like, to feel a pang of shame, but all it did by now, really, was arouse him more. It awoke the image of Roy watching him again and Dick imagined him kneeling up, putting his calloused archer’s hands on the back of Dick’s thighs and _push_ and that was all it took for Dick to start coming.

The thought of pulling off never crossed his mind. He only sucked harder, moved faster, gave himself _more_ when he felt the first splash of semen hit, and kept doing it until the intensity of his orgasm faded, until a last, weak dribble slowly slid down his tongue, and then Dick stilled. And swallowed.

The taste of his own semen was thick in his mouth, salty and bitter, but not unpleasantly so. Dick felt as if his tongue was coated with it; it made him feel dirty and at the same time it made him want to kiss someone, let ( _Roy_ ) that person lick him clean and rid him of the slimy feeling, or maybe just _share_ it.

Dick kept sucking softly as he started unfurling himself, didn’t let up until his cock slipped out with a wet, little _pop_. He shakily pushed off the headboard and straightened out on his bed, only then realizing he was still gripping the comforter. He’d held it so long his fingers complained when he let go, so he immediately started working blood back into them, closing and opening his fists over and over, as he stared unseeing at his ceiling.

He’d done it.

He’d sucked himself off.

It had been his very first blowjob.

Dick groaned. He didn’t know what to think of himself. Maybe it was better to not think at all. It was _definitely_ better to start repressing the fact he’d thought of _Roy_ when he came. Roy, his _friend_ , his stupid, dumbass, really, really kinda _hot_ friend.

Dick buried his face in his hands, rubbed the spit from his lips with his palms and the last sparks from his eyes with his fingertips.

 _Damnit_.

Right, he was supposed to repress. He tried thinking of something else, like how neat it was not having to clean up after coming, or how to use folding in on himself to his advantage while patrolling, or what was for dinner or…

After a minute or so of _not_ thinking about Roy, Dick felt better and despite his limbs feeling like jelly he got off his bed with a somersault, only fibbing the landing the tiniest bit, and headed for his bathroom. Neat or not, Dick could use a shower and, more importantly, he felt a pressing need to brush his teeth.

He wondered if he’d ever get used to the sliminess of his come. He wondered how weird _that_ thought made him. He realized with a little start he’d begun finding it harder to care; he already knew there would be repeat performances. The thought sent a weak little thrill through him, his sensitive, sticky cock twitching and making him wince.

He supposed he’d better make that shower cold.

oOo


End file.
